Jonathan's Numair
by Galia
Summary: Very straightforward: A JonNumair romance. NOT SUITABLE for members of the Christian Coalition or similar. No, it is not graphic, yes, it is two men together. If this offends you, do not read it. Plain and simple.
1. Desire

A/N: Maybe you think that all slash is  
disgusting/unnatural/sinful/whatever, but I donít care. I did this because I  
wanted to do it, to see how it would work out. If you think this is terrible, I  
donít give a you-know-what so go right ahead and flame me to your heartís  
desire.   
  
My realm is in a constant state of war. It seems as if the minute we defeat Scanra, the Copper Isles attack, and once they are vanquished, it's time to defend Tortall from Galla.  
  
And through every war, every magical battle, Numair is in the field more than anyone else,  
sometimes using his Gift against two, three, four opponents without so much as a drink of water between. Afterwards, when any other man would jump at the opportunity to rest, he comes to my War Chamber, giving reports and advice. When command of the army takes over my time, he steps in to cover the magical strategy, so unobtrusively that I hardly realize it until he finally exhausts himself.  
  
The last battle against Tusaine ended just hours ago, and my best mages are passed out all around this tiny fortress. Even Numair, who will hold on to his consciousness until the last minute, is on the floor of this very library, curled up into a ball under a quilt. It's been difficult fighting in the dead of winter, for the soldiers and the mages both. I can hardly move my fingers to turn the pages of the various reports that have been trickling in since the end of the war this afternoon.  
  
Numair stirs slightly, and the blanket slides down, leaving his arms and part of his bare torso exposed. Welcoming the distraction, I stand, stretching my sore muscles, and go pull the quilt up to cover him. His violent shivering slows but does not cease, so I use my Gift to build up the fire. Then, reluctant to go back to my work, I sit cross-legged on the floor beside him.  
  
There is nothing more depressing for a mage than waking up to find oneself completely alone, with no idea of the day or time or what has happened while you were resting. I feel that I owe it to my best mage and dear friend to be personally present when he awakens. It will probably be several hours or even several days yet, but he still surprises me. In fact, although I've known him for five years, he surprises me every day. The man is an enigma.  
  
In the first month of the war, I had to send him against Tusaineís finest mages - men (and a few women) who had achieved advanced mastery, and even one black robe mage. Obviously, since he's still alive right now, he triumphed over these difficult opponents. In quiet moments, when neither of us had any work, he would confide in me that he hated to kill. I can understand that; he has a gentle, loving nature, but is strong-willed enough to overcome it for what he fervently hopes is a good cause.   
  
I can scarcely believe that he regularly forgoes sleep, food, and peace of mind because  
he believes in my kingdom - in me. He was born in Tyra, raised in Carthak, and has only been living here for half a decade, yet he is willing to give up everything for Tortall. I wish I could stir such fierce loyalty in my generals and other officials. Sometimes I cannot for the life of me understand his allegiance. He could very well be the most powerful mage in the world, and could find work in any nation in the eastern or southern lands (except perhaps  
Carthak), but he chooses to work here. In fact, it's been his lifelong dream. Someday I'll find the courage to ask him why.  
  
Numair's body convulses as he coughs uncontrollably from somewhere deep within his  
chest. I place my hand gently on his shoulder until his coughing subsides. As usual, I've forgotten the harsh effects that constant magic can have on a mage's body.   
He's beginning to shiver again. What can I do? He made me give all but one of his  
blankets to be used in the healerís tentóthereís a shortage. Thatís Numair for you; everyone else comes first, every time. But right now he needs to be warmed up. I look around. There's no one in the library. I locked the door so that I wouldn't be disturbed.   
  
I slip under the quilt with him and hug his body close to mine. His skin is so cold I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out when I touch it. Another side effect of severe drainage. I'm freezing now, but this needs to be done. Numair is my close friend, and for all the pain and trouble he's put himself through for me, this is the least I can do.  
  
I can't believe how quickly he responds. Almost before I know it, heís curled up in a  
ball against my chest. I wrap my arms around him without thinking, and his cold cheek presses against my shoulder. His beautiful face is turned up to mine, somehow more appealing for the exhaustion that it shows. I can't resist - I plant a gentle kiss on those magnificent lips.  
  
Before I know it, I'm staring into the depths of his open eyes. He looks confused and slightly scared, but buried under it all I can see his excitement. He's never known the pleasures of two men together; I can see that right away.  
  
"You've been awake the entire time," I accuse.   
  
He feels threatened. I soften my glare. "Only since you - you -"  
  
I place my finger on his lips. "I kissed you. Donít be afraid to say it. This is perfectly natural. I want it so much." Mithros! That slipped out! Hastily I add, "but I won't do anything without your consent."  
  
His answer is a long time in coming. "When you - when you kissed me, that felt right. It  
felt like ice melting inside me. Besides, your majesty, I'm your faithful servant on all occasions."  
  
I shake my head. "This isn't about my telling you what to do. This is your choice. I'm going to get out from under this blanket and never mention this again if that's what you want."  
  
Hedoesn't need to think about it. "Don't do that. Please, don't do that." I grin, although he  
can't see. The candles behind me light his perfect features and obscure mine.  
  
I contemplate responding to his invitation with words, but my deeper instincts overcome common sense and I am upon him instantly, kissing, feeling, probing. He is beautiful, body, mind, and spirit, and this night I will finally familiarize myself with each one of these. I have been ready for this for five years. He has served me. Now I will serve him.  
  
  
A/N: This war, obviously, is fictional. And I must give credit where credit is due for the phrase "Constant state of war" and its application to King Jonathan. Unfortunately, I have no idea where credit is due but whoever wrote that is welcome to claim it. Thank you, and remember:  
Sticks and stones may break my bones but flames will never hurt me.  
Challenge to the flamers: say ONE positive thing in your review.


	2. Doubt

A/N: Many, many thanks to the people who left good reviews! I would like to hold up Garnet-Scorpion and the eternity, but mostly Alone in the Desert, for examples of the way a review SHOULD be. Not only did you oil your fair criticism with compliments (thanks!), you showed me that you respect my writing by wanting to make it better. Someday I will go back and fix the problems with chapter one, but until then just have my eternal gratitude.  
  
To all my other kind reviewers, thank you, and I appreciate you all!  
  
Spot on the Pavement is right - I do think Jon might be willing to exploit Numair a little bit. I should have thought of that, but I didn't.  
  
julz - Thanks for your review but I'm not going to stop writing what I want to write. Normally I welcome flames but I figure I can do without twenty messages that tell me I'm going to hell. That won't really help improve my writing.  
  
To - I really try to avoid being mean to people who took the time to review. But...you're a bit of an idiot. I will reproduce your review here for people to laugh at: r u gay or a lesbo? do you know that jon luvs thayet or maybe he still luvs alanna  
  
Thanks, - I'm glad you want to know about private business like my sexuality but I will not indulge you. And in your second sentence (I use the term loosely), not only do you prove that you cannot write but that you have entirely misunderstood the purpose of fanfiction.  
  
Please forgive me.  
  
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Sleep.  
  
All I want to do is sleep. I want to close my eyes and rest forever, drowning in darkness and peace. The darkness is cold, but quiet. There are no sounds of battle, no mages or soldiers screaming with their last breaths. I cannot smell the scent of blood, of horse sweat, of death all around.  
  
And suddenly, there is warmth. Not the heat of battle, but comforting warmth. I press close to it, allowing my head to fall back with a soft sigh.  
  
And then the world explodes.  
  
I have had my share of women, and I have experienced my share of kisses. But none has ever affected me as deeply and with such strength as the one administered by the King of Tortall.  
  
I cannot hide my confusion and fear. I have felt drawn so forcefully to only a few women - but the King is no woman. I recognize the feelings of love and lust that tumble around inside my head, but I am unable to make sense of them as they relate to another man.  
  
You've been awake the entire time, the king says, and I wonder how long he considers the entire time to be. Has he been kissing me in my sleep? Why do I not feel the revulsion that is proper at such a thought?  
  
Only since you - you - I gulp. Naming a thing gives it power, and I cannot allow my base desires to control me. I tell myself that my mother would cry and my father would disown me if they had any idea of the desire I suddenly feel for Jonathan.  
  
I realize that he has been speaking. This is natural, is all that my overstimulated mind was able to comprehend. Is it? In Carthak men occasionally took boys and other men to their beds, but I was never part of such a coupling. In the Yamani Isles the phenomenon is relatively common, but in Tortall it is considered repulsive.   
  
Can love truly be considered repulsive?  
  
I decide to share my feelings, whatever the consequences. When you - when you kissed me, that felt right. It felt like ice melting inside me. I realize immediately that the pronouncement was overly dramatic and sounded like an insincere affectation. I try to lighten the feeling with a joke: Besides, your majesty, I'm your faithful servant on _all_ occasions.  
  
Jonathan misses the joke - in retrospect, one should not mix passion and humor. "This isn't about my telling you what to do. This is your choice. I'm going to get out from under this blanket and never mention this again if that's what you want."  
  
That is _not_ what I want, and I tell him so. His response is immediate and passionate. I feel my doubts melt away under his warm touch. I surrender to my feelings.  
  
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A/N: What do you all think? I tried to smooth over the faithful servant line which, looking back, was inappropriate and ruined the moment, but I'm not sure if it worked. Even the charming Numair might not joke at a time like this.  
  
I'm considering writing an epilogue to work this back into canon - end their relationship and work things out with Thayet ( I have some ideas). But not if you think it would be better without. Let me know.


End file.
